Chapter 6 – Rhythm is everything

A week later, Jess found himself surreptitiously waiting for the mailman. It wasn't too obvious, he didn't think. He would just happen to be hanging out at the front counter each day around 10:30am, hoping there would be an envelope for him amongst the bills and flyers. He would deny it if anyone asked, of course. He didn't even really want to admit it to himself.

At least he no longer had to serve coffee all morning in order to catch a glimpse of her.

So far, his vigil had come up empty handed. He knew she was extremely busy so he tried not to be disappointed. But as the days wore on, he began the process of mentally kicking himself for hoping.

Of course she hasn't written you back, you moron. She's got this big, important job, on the WAY-out-of-your-league scale. You're low on her priority list, pal; somewhere between taxes and remembering to pick up dry cleaning.

So far, their mail conversation had seemed so familiar, so easy. That connection, whatever it was, lingered to the point that Jess could imagine it was present tense with very little effort.

You're presuming that she feels and remembers things the same way you do.

It was foolhardy and dangerous, making assumptions about someone he hadn't seen in years. She could be a completely different person now, maybe even one he wouldn't like.

She's Rory. You're incapable of not liking her.

Jess pinched his nose, trying to stave off the headache he was giving himself with the point / counterpoint tennis match. It was futile anyway; her letter would come, or it wouldn't. Waiting for the mail like a pathetic puppy and tearing up his insides over it wouldn't change the outcome at all. It would be better if he just got busy and pretended there was nothing different about today, or this week.

With his office door firmly shut, he buried himself in a second edit. He let the author's story wrap around him and block any outside thoughts from intruding. A therapist probably would have told him that extreme literary escapism wasn't a healthy way of dealing with his feelings. But for Jess, the written word had always been his shelter against anxiety, fear, sadness and disappointment.

Firmly into the ninth chapter, he didn't even hear Matt knock on his door.

"Hey Grumpy, something in the mail for you."

Jess' head snapped up, surprised that there was someone else in the room with him.

"What?"

"Mail. From the White House. For you." Matt tapped the envelope on the desk, eyeing his friend closely. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"Nope."

Jess frowned and grabbed at the letter, only to barely miss as Matt stepped back and raised his eyebrows.

"No? You sure about that? Because I seem to recall hearing something on the news a few weeks ago… I wasn't going to bring it up, but since the topic has reappeared with our copy of Time magazine…"

"Back off," Jess growled back.

"So this letter IS from her. Interesting…"

Jess felt his blood pressure rising as Matt clicked his tongue and smiled over the teasing possibilities.

"She's writing to you about a professional matter, I'm sure. I mean, what else could she have to say?"

Jess just glowered and refused to be drawn into a discussion.

"If you don't tell me I'm just going to make stuff up, you know." As Matt continued in a sing-song voice, Jess set his teeth and tried to calm down.

"Dear Jess, I'm having such a good time here in Washington. The weather is great, and people are just SO nice to me. Send my love to Mom and Dad, I mean Uncle and Auntie… I mean, well, whatever…"

As he lunged again, Matt sidestepped and held the envelope over his head.

"Oh no, you're not getting this until I hear an explanation." His partner was practically glowing, thinking he had Jess over a barrel.

"You're only an inch and a half taller than me, idiot." And with that, Jess finally snatched the letter and bodily pushed Matt out the door.

"Geez man, lighten up. I was just pulling your chain…"

Jess ignored his friend and tore into the envelope. He wasn't going to acknowledge that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly. Besides, it was probably just lingering anger after Matt's invasion into his personal life. As he pulled the single sheet out, a photo fluttered down to the surface of his desk.

Empty chairs.

She sent him a picture of empty chairs? The room didn't look familiar, so why would she…

Recognition hit him quickly. The Press Gallery. She sent him a picture of her view from the podium in the Briefing Room. On the back were a few handwritten words:

The Cheap Seats

He grinned as he unfolded her letter, but his smile didn't last long.

Jess,

Greetings from Washington. I think I've found the best Indian food in the western hemisphere, and it's right down the street from my apartment. Problem is, it's also next door to a book store, so I think I've had a curry every night for the past week. (I should probably learn how to cook at some point, in my spare time.)

I'm also not sure when I'll get to read all of these books I'm buying, since I seem to always be at work. There's always more to do. Speaking of, my first briefing is on Monday. It's funny how things look so different from the other side of the room. To calm my nerves, I'm trying my Grandpa's secret technique of picturing everyone in their underwear. That's not to say that the technique is secret, of course. Lots of people use it for public speaking. I just meant that he keeps it secret because it wouldn't be dignified for a Gilmore to picture a crowd in their underwear.

Except, now that I think about it, I'm a Gilmore too. So I probably shouldn't be imagining the reporter from Fox News in his boxer briefs. Ick. Definitely not.

I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, I've done my reading and research, and I have a team of fact checkers at my disposal. Everyone has confidence in me. I'm just working on having confidence in myself - I'll get there. I will get there, right? I have to.

Rory

P.S. I checked. My office windows are bulletproof and don't open. Any other escape ideas? You know, just in case…

Jess wasn't quite sure how to feel about Rory's letter. He could feel her nervous energy in the words she chose and the tight, squished feeling of her handwriting. The impression started his stomach churning and gave him a sense of urgency, even though she wrote and mailed the letter almost a week earlier.

He scanned the letterhead again, a plan galvanizing. Without further thought, he pulled out his phone and dialed the gold, embossed number.

"Office of the Press Secretary."

On hearing the strange voice, he was taken aback, forgetting momentarily that he didn't have her direct number.

Of course you don't. You're just supposed to be pen pals.

"I'm looking for Rory Gilmore." He suddenly remembered his manners, and tacked a "Please?" on the end before the woman had time to respond.

"Is she expecting your call sir?"

"No. Uh, no, she's not."

"May I ask what this is in regards to?"

Shit, he wasn't expecting to be interrogated just to get to speak to her. And he wasn't stupid enough to think I'm an old friend would get him through. Time to think quickly, which used to be a real talent of his.

"I'm in publishing. She contacted me about some material we put out last year. I'm just calling back to answer her questions."

"I see. And your name, sir?"

"Jess Mariano, with Truncheon Publishing." Why did he suddenly feel like he was going to get the brush off?

This was a dumb idea. He was about to hit end on his cell and give up, when the voice cleared.

"Ahem. One moment please."

He listened to the politically correct music while he idly wondered if she'd accept his call, or if the receptionist would even ask her. He wouldn't put it past the woman to judiciously screen him out.

"Rory Gilmore."

Her voice, live and warm, reduced him to a puddle.

"Hey, it's me. It's Jess."

"So my secretary told me." He could hear her smiling behind her words and it eased the knot in his gut.

"Oh, right."

"So I'm presuming you didn't call to discuss a book you've published." Okay, now she was actually laughing at him.

"Nope, you got me there."

"That's too bad. I could have used the distraction."

Jess was internally reeling from the thought that he was actually talking to her after all these years, but he still knew the rhythm, the pattern of their speech.

"Guess why I am calling."

"Um, you got my letter and you're too lazy to actually write a response?"

"Am I that transparent?"

Rory giggled self-consciously. "No, just an obvious conclusion. But I suppose you might have called for another reason. There's lots of reasons to call someone. Like, just to say hello. But we've already done that now. Or, if they're sick or something. I suppose that would be a good reason."

"Are you sick?"

"No, no. Perfectly healthy. Are you? Sick, I mean?"

God, he loved that even as powerful and important as she was now, she still tripped over her words when he threw her off.

Jess grinned crookedly. "Nope. Picture of health over here. Nervous?"

Rory sighed into the phone and he imagined her breath washing over him.

"A little. It's been a long time, Jess."

"It has. I guess I'm a little nervous too." He paused, laughing under his breath. "But we're in good shape, because I think we've had this conversation before."

"I think you might be right."

"And it went ok the last time."

"Yes. True. So why are you calling?"

Why had he called her? The thought of her sitting at her desk, twirling the phone cord around her finger had him completely distracted, and feeling a little warm under the collar.

"Your letter. I thought we'd established that."

"Oh, right." To his ear, she sounded almost embarrassed that she'd sent it.

"You didn't make it sound like your job was going too well."

Rory laughed tightly. "Maybe I was just being dramatic."

"I don't think so."

"My mom says I have a penchant for the dramatic. I just hide it well."

Jess knew he needed to get back to the reason he'd originally called her, or they were in danger of falling into meaningless pleasantries.

"I watched the live feed of your briefing on Monday."

"You did?!"

"I did."

"I didn't know your skulking licence extended past driveways."

He smiled at the memory. "Well, it was either give it up, or evolve. Technology is just helping me keep with the times."

"Huh."

He grunted back at her. "Now who's verging on monosyllabic?"

There was a pause, and Jess worried he'd lost her.

"Just still surprised you watched my briefing."

She sounded both happy he had remembered and made the time, and also nervous about his opinion of her first performance.

"You were great."

"You're lying."

"I didn't know you took voice analysis classes at Yale."

Rory made a noise that sounded like a grimace over the phone. "How bad was it?"

"Not bad. It was good. But I could tell you were terrified."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but that was probably just me. I've seen that look before."

She sighed again. "Yeah, you probably have. When, specifically?"

"When you introduced me to Emily the first time."

"Wow. That's bad. You don't think other people could tell?"

Jess chuckled and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Nope. To everyone else you were cool as a zucchini."

"Isn't it a cucumber?"

"I hate cucumber. I'm taking artistic license."

"Oh."

There was silence from her end, but based on her tone, he guessed she wasn't finished. His patience was soon rewarded.

"Hey, Jess?"

"Rory..."

"Sometimes I'm not sure I can do this."

Jess sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "You can. I know you can."

"And you know me pretty well?"

"Better than most. Some would say I know you better than anyone."

"Some would."

In that moment, he was transported back to that fateful night, where he had yelled those words at her in frustration. He didn't regret them, just the way he'd said them, and the way they had altered their path forever.

"Would you say that, Rory?"

"Jess, I…"

He could hear her hesitation, the uncertainty. There was too much space and history between them to just fall back into old patterns.

"Beat it, Gilmore. Go be brilliant."

"Hey, Jess. Can I call you? Sometime, I mean?"

"Anytime Rory. I'll give you my cell number."

"You have a cell phone? Seriously?"

"Like I said: technology." He rattled off the digits quickly, not willing to give it too much thought. "I'm just trying to stay relevant. I've even been known to tweet, on occasion."

Rory laughed, the sound like rays of sunshine bouncing on water. "I'll have to look you up so I can read your nuggets of wisdom."

"You do that, although the nuggets are small to non-existent."

"Ok, I really have to go. Sorry."

"I'm not keeping you."

"Bye Jess."

"Bye Rory."

Jess thumbed the End Call button and just stared at the phone in his hand, barely able to remember to breathe. It was just like before, and yet completely different. They had both grown up into different people, and yet, did people ever really change? He personally believed that people were fundamentally the same from birth to death, with small tweaks here and there.

She still affected him the same way, still made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. And even though he probably smiled marginally more now than he ever did as a teenager, she could still make him smile the brightest. After all these years and time apart, he felt her. He felt her just as strongly as he ever did.

Damn, would that ever go away?

Rather than be annoyed by it, which was his usual go-to emotion, he decided to just enjoy the feeling for once. He let the sound of her voice and their shared memories float him away from the real world for a minute.

Jess leaned back again, a peaceful expression on his face, and let his momentum spin the chair slowly in a circle.